Hexes
by celinenaville
Summary: Set somewhere between the first few seasons, when both boys were relatively innocent...Sam falls at the receiving end of a nasty hex. In order to break it, they have to turn to an old friend of their father's. Just an excuse for some Sammy!Whumping and Protective!Dean. *COMPLETED*
1. Chapter 1

**Sam draws the short straw in this one...**

 **Hexes**

When normal people are very sick or afraid they sometimes call for their mothers or fathers. Not so with the Winchester boys. When they were hurt-they called for each other. Sam found himself doing exactly that as he lay on his back, confused, frightened, unsure of what was even happening to him- except that he was in pain.

"Dean!" He cried out, kicking the ground with his booted heel. He tried to push himself to his feet to no avail. His teeth began to chatter.

"Easy, sweetheart." A voice soothed. "Easy." There were hands on his shoulders, pinning him down. Sam opened his fever bright eyes and waited for them to pull focus on the face before him. She leaned in closer.

"Sam." Her voice was firm. "I need you to calm down, honey."

His brows knitted together as he stared at her, uncomprehendingly.

Another wave of pain shot through him and he cried out, arching his back with it. When it subsided, he was breathless and dizzy.

"Breathe." Ellis smoothed back the tousled brown bags and laid her palm against his forehead. He was still warm. He opened his eyes again and looked at her half- lucidly. His breath hitched. She watched his ribs rise in and out rapidly. She let her hands slide down to the side of his face.

"Hurts," Sam whimpered. His breathing caught in a grimace.

"I know." She said. "I know. I'm right here."

She pulled up his shirt and looked at his stomach. The feel of the air on his torso made Sam wince and she watched his abdominal muscles contract in protest. She wished she could get him to relax so that she could examine him better. She wished Dean would hurry the hell up.

"Dean?" He rolled his head fitfully sideways.

"Dean's not here right now. He'll be back." She held him still for a moment. His struggles against her was so weak that juxtaposed with his size it was almost pathetic.

"Sam," her voice was firm. "You have to stay still. Hey," she took his handsome face in both her hands and coaxed him to look at her. His hazel blue eyes were clouded and confused. "Stay with me."

She'd been with Sam for the better part of several hours, and his condition didn't seem to be improving at all. Despite her feeble attempts to help - he'd possibly gotten worse. He was certainly more disoriented. She heard him stop panting again and she put a hand on his chest. She could feel his heart hammering beneath her palm.

"Breathe, sweetheart. You have to breathe."

He furrowed his brow and managed to wheeze out. "C...Can't."

"Yes you can. I _know_... I know it hurts. I'm right here." She pitched her voice into a soothing mantra. "It's okay. You're okay." She was met with a whimper as he squeezed his eyes shut. She watched the muscle in his jaw clench. "Its okay," she soothed again. It wasn't okay. It freaking sucked, she thought, conveying none of her worry to Sam.

Dean Winchester burst through the door.

"He any better?" he asked brusquely.

"No," she said. "Tell me you got the things to help him."

"I hope so," he replied. He dumped out a paper bag of various occult supplies. Candles, salt, oils. "These right?"

"We can work with this for sure. I guess all the studying on how to break hexes over the years is about to be put to the test. Too bad it's not always as easy as burning the hex bag."

Dean shook his head. "He looks awful."

Sam's eyes fluttered open. "Dean?"

Dean plastered on a fake smile and a light tone. "Hey Sammy."

Ellis picked out a vial of liquid and moved to the bed. "Sam, honey," she touched it to his lips and he turned his head away and tried to bat at it ineffectually with his hand. "Hey. Hey there, Sammy." Dean took him by the wrists. "Don't kill the help, huh?"

"Dean..." Ellis dropped her voice. "Some of this is not going to be very comfortable for him."

The older man nodded. He sat on the edge of the bed and kept a hold of Sam's wrists.

Ellis placed a hand on Sam's chin and gently pried his mouth open. She tipped his head back slightly and dumped the liquid down his throat. Sam choked a little and tried to twist out of Dean's hold. "No. No." Dean said with a tight smile. "Easy, Tiger."

Ellis lit a blue candle that Dean had brought and placed it inside a circle of salt she'd laid out on the floor. The smell of sulphur from the match stung the air and Dean wrinkled his nose in distaste.

She picked up the pine oil and put some on her palm. She locked gazes with Dean and he nodded and shifted his position behind Sam. He pulled the younger man's head and shoulders half into his lap and wrapped his arms around Sam's chest. Sam winced at the movement. Ellis pulled up his shirt again and touched her fingers to his abdomen. Sam cried out and arched his back, digging his heels into the mattress.

"Its okay, Sam." She soothed.

"Stop!" He cried. "Stop! Please stop!"

"Sammy." Dean's voice was firm. "Its okay, buddy." Sam fisted his hand into Dean's leather jacket. Ellis pressed harder, tracing the lines of the musculature along his abdomen. His protest broke into a choked sob. Dean winced in sympathy but held him in place.

She shook her hand away. Sam lay panting, hand still gripping onto Dean's coat.

"Okay." Dean frowned. "This is the last time either of us is going to get hit with a hex." He said to Ellis.

"You're lucky they didn't want you dead. The goal of this one seems to be pain."

"N...Not lucky." Sam whispered.

Ellis smiled. "Well that's an improvement, you can follow our conversation." She touched Sam's cheek gently.

Dean untangled Sam's large hand from his jacket. "Is that it?" he asked eagerly. "Is it over?"

"No but we have to be precise about when we do the other parts. I'm hoping he's got a break from the discomfort in the interim. Maybe we can get him to drink something."

Dean pressed his knuckles into his forehead. "I need to drink something." He tried to extricate himself from Sam but Sam wordlessly grabbed his arm. "My leg is cramping, dude. I gotta move." Dean said gently.

He pried Sam's hand off and stood up, carefully lowering the younger man's shoulders back onto the mattress. Somehow, even though he was in his mid twenties, Sam's expression manage to make him look about twelve. He closed his eyes lazily.

Dean stretched. "I really do need something to eat."

Ellis waved in the direction of the kitchen. "Help yourself and bring me a glass of water for Sam."

"What's the next step?" Dean's voice called from the kitchen.

Ellis was busy mixing some oils together. "The usual. Some oils, some incantations, a little blood letting."

"Sounds like a party." Dean said flatly. He reappeared with some potato chips and a glass of water. Ellis took it, wiping her hands on her shirt. She carefully propped Sam's head up. He groaned.

"Water." She set the rim to his lips.

Sam felt the cool touch of the glass against his skin. "Drink." A voice said firmly. He didn't want water. She pushed the cup against his teeth and he swallowed reluctantly. "Good boy." She tipped some more down his throat until he grumbled a protest and turned his head. "Well," Dean said around a mouthful of potato chips. "At least he's feeling better enough to be a pain in the ass."

"I think that's a natural thing for Winchesters...although, really, he's in a world of pain. He's doing okay." She maternally pushed her fingers through his soft brown hair, a natural impulse for her for some reason.

"He scared the hell out of me." Dean took a swig of beer.

"I can imagine."

"I didn't know what the hell was wrong, just all of the sudden he's dropped to the floor, yelling."

She drew a finger to her lips and caught Dean's green eyes. "He's listening. Let's not upset him with details, just in case."

The older Winchester nodded. Ellis snapped her fingers and gestured silently for Dean to hand her one of her oil mixtures. Silently, she dabbed some on her fingers and drew it across Sam's forehead. "I need his shirt off."

Sam pulled away protectively as she started to lift the fabric up. She looked up to Dean, who shoved the last potato chip into his mouth and pulled the shirt over Sam's head. Sam cried out at being jostled.

"Sorry buddy."

Lisa poured the oil on Sam's chest and started to rub it in.

"What's in the mix? He already smells like Pine-Sol and fear."

"Shhhh."Ellis moved her hands over Sam's body in a rhythmic gesture and begin to mutter in Gaelic. Sam's breathing grew hitched and he looked uncomfortable again. The muscles beneath his now oiled skin grew taught and he groaned.

Dean watched with concern. Not sure what to say or do. "This feels slightly inappropriate," he joked.

Her hands stilled a moment. "Dean," She warned.

He held his hands up. "Okay okay."

"Sam," Ellis leaned down and put her mouth close to his ear. "Sam."

Sam's eyes slowly slid open she waited for him to pull focus. She rested a hand on his bicep. "Well hello there, Mr. Winchester," she said with a false cheerfulness.

"Hi," he said weakly, a little confused. He swallowed hard and winced. She put a finger gently against the slight cleft on his chin. "It's okay, sweetie." The other hand tightened on his bicep. "Can you say the words Cosaint, caomhu, didean?"

He looked weakly at her, biting his lower lip.

She repeated it. "Cosaint, caomhu, didean."

"Cosaint, Cao-" he broke off, confused.

"-mhu," she finished. "C'mon, baby."

Sam's eyes slid closed.

"Sam," she placed her hands on both cheeks. "Sam"

Dean came to stand next to her, "Sam!" he barked, firmly.

Sam's eyes fluttered open. Ellis was leaning close to him, they were inches away from touching noses. Her thumbs stroked his cheek. "She repeated the Gaelic phrase. "Do this for me, Sam."

"Cosaint, caomhu, ahhhh..."Sam squeezed his eyes shut as pain lanced through him. She held his face still, didn't let him turn away. "Say it."

"C...cosaint..." his teeth began to chatter.

"Fuck, Dean," Ellis turned her head helplessly. "I need to get on this or he's going to go into shock."

"Here," Dean shoved her out of the way. "What is it again?"

"Cosaint, caomhu, didean."

"Right." He touched Sam's shoulder, firmly. "Sam... _Sam_. _Sammy_!"

Sam's pained eyes met Dean's. His jaw was trembling.

"Cosaint, caomhu, didean- _say_ it."

"Cos..."

"Dammit, Sam." Dean took his brother's hand in his and squeezed hard, his left hand still on Sam's bare shoulder. " _Stop being a pussy and man up_!"

Sam steeled himself and started to repeat the mantra. The pain swept over him and he gripped onto Dean's hand, firm and real like a lifeline.

Ellis took a knife, held the blade over the flame to sterilize it, and without hesitation, sank the blade into Sam's left forearm. Sam hissed.

"Keep chanting," she ordered.

"Eyes on me, Sam." Dean's voice was firm.

His arm began to trickle blood. She let it drip to the floor in slow monotonous drops.

"Keep him saying it." She told Dean. She started with her own chant, picked up a smooth stone from the assorted bag Dean had brought. She passed it through the candle flame, let a few drops of Sam's blood drip on it and then closed her eyes and started her own chant.

Sam had broken into a sweat. He was having trouble staying focused. Dean's hand squeezed his own. His older brother's voice drifted to him, making him repeat the Gaelic. God, it was hard. His teeth kept chattering, his voice breaking. He felt detached from his body.

"Sam." Sam's eyes pulled focus to see Dean hovering above him. Even through his fog he could read the worry from the older Winchester. "Say it, Sam."

 **To be continued...**


	2. Chapter 2

"C...Cosaint." Sam choked a little on the words. It was so hard to speak. He felt dizzy.

"Coamhu," Dean said, nudging him. "Come on, Sammy."

"Coamhu." Sam repeated, glassy eyed.

"Didean."

"Di...agh!" a scream ripped from Sam's throat as as Ellis placed the rock on his stomach, a few inches below his navel. He bucked and tried to twist away, but she pinned his hips with her hands. It burned. It felt impossibly heavy and Sam fought it as he felt something begin to pull out of him toward the stone. The energy moved like half frozen syrup and pulled agonizingly at every inch of him as it slid down.

Sam let out a sob and tried to pull away. Dean and Ellis both held strong.

 _"Stop!_ " He cried.

"It's helping you, honey." Ellis said urgently. "It's pulling the hex out of you."

"No!" Sam didn't even know what he was protesting.

Dean's voice was calm but forceful. " _Cosaint, Coamhu, Didean."_

Sam couldn't repeat the words. His mind was a white hot wash of agony and fear.

"Dean!" he cried.

"Sammy." Dean's calloused hands moved to Sam's face. He leaned in close and gave him a gentle shake. "Say it." Dean said. _"Say it_."

"Cosaint, Coamhu, Didean!" Sam sobbed the phrase and for a horrible moment the pain flared and then abruptly, it broke free and slid into the stone that lay below his heaving, panting stomach. He went limp.

"Sammy!" Dean cried.

"Dean," Ellis put her hand on his arm. He whirled as if stung. His face was streaked with tears.

"He's okay," she said. "He's okay."

Dean's knees buckled and he slid to the floor beside his brother's bed. He dropped his head back onto the mattress, breathing shallowly. "Tell me its over," he said, his eyes closed.

Ellis put her hand on Sam's well-muscled chest and slid it down to his pelvis, where she picked up the stone.

"It's over," she said, tossing the stone into the ring of salt. She knelt down to Dean's height and took him by the arms.

Dean opened his green eyes and picked his head up to look at her. "Never mind me. Take care of Sam."

"He's unconscious, honey."

' ''M fine."

Ellis leaned closer and very tenderly pressed a kiss against the older Winchester's forehead. He tensed and winced, almost like it hurt him.

"What..."he asked, confused.

"You look as bad as he does." She studied the stress lines on his handsome face and wanted to erase them all. There was a horrible irony that Dean Winchester never seem to crumble under blows, but a bit of tenderness set him on edge. She stood up and turned her attention to Sam, leaving Dean to collect himself.

"Is he going to be alright?" Dean asked from his spot on the floor.

"Yes." She said. "Possibly a little tired and sore from his ordeal tonight, but nothing permanent."

"Thank you." She looked down to see him staring up at her without guile or artifice. He was impossibly angelic looking like that, almost beautiful, even if he was distinctly masculine.

"You're welcome, Dean." She put her hand on his shoulder. "When you want to get off the floor, the couch is right there. I'll grab you a pillow."

Dean grabbed her hand and pressed his lips briefly to the back of it. There was nothing sexual about his demonstration, just a brief unbridled affection. It was all the payment she needed. When he let go, she made sure to drag her fingers lightly through the short cropped hair as she walked away.

* * *

Sam lazily opened his eyes.

"Well hello, sweetheart." A thin blonde woman walked over to him, her voice quiet. She was older, somewhere in her late 30's, pleasant featured and wearing no make-up.

Sam blinked, shifted and immediately regretted the movement.

"Take it easy." She sat on a chair she had pulled next to his bedside and placed a hand on his shoulder. Sam's expression registered puzzlement.

"That hex hit you good. You're probably not going to feel great for a while."

Sam's eyebrows knitted together. "I'm sorry. I don't remember who you are?"

She smiled, reached over to brush his bangs off of his forehead. She did it with familiarity, Sam noticed, as if she'd done it a hundred times before. "You wouldn't." Her voice was still soft.

"Where-"

"You're at my place."

"-is Dean?" Sam finished.

She smiled. "He's asleep on the couch just over there." She saw the relief register in the hazel blue eyes.

"I'm Ellis," she told him. "I'm an old friend of Dean and your dad's."

"Hi," he said with a weak smile.

Her hand went to his hair again. "You hungry?"

"Thirsty," Sam replied.

She reached over to the stand and handed him a glass of water. "Figured you might be."

Sam took the glass and tried to prop himself up on one shoulder. He was so sore. She put an arm behind his back and helped him hold his weight as he took a few deep swallows. "That's it. Not to much. We don't need you barfing up water." She took the cup away and he collapsed back on to the mattress. "You've been through a lot. I think you're going to need a few days."

"Yeah." Sam replied honestly. "That was... _horrible_. Really... horrible. I can't think of another word for it." There was an indefinable softness about the younger Winchester that neither John nor Dean possessed, something the harshness of his existence had not yet erased.

"Dean is fine?" He asked abruptly.

She smiled. "Yes, he is. Except for worrying about you."

"Normally he's a light sleeper. I thought he'd have heard us by now."

"I drugged his tea."

Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise and then a slow smile crept across his face, revealing a flash of dimples. He snorted.

"He's been worried sick and I know I can't talk any sense into him... so well, he'll sleep now at least."

"Good. " Sam nodded to himself. " Wish I had a way to drug him myself sometimes. He's a pain in the ass."

"That he is." Ellis leaned forward and encircled Sam's wrist with her fingers. Sam felt her settle on one of his pulse points and she stilled, counting in time with her watch. After a minute she seemed satisfied. Instead of releasing her grip, she slid down to Sam's palm and twined her fingers with his. Sam's face registered surprise at the tenderness of the gesture.

She looked sad. "Its okay." She said softly. "Relax, Sam." She squeezed him again.

Slowly, and very unlike Dean, Sam relaxed and squeezed back with a soft "Thank you."

"Anytime, honey. I'm just happy you're feeling better." Sam turned his head sideways and caught sight of Dean's form sprawled across the couch at the far end of the room. The visual soothed him a little further. Ellis' thumb caressed the back of his hand. He started to feel drowsy. His blue green eyes fluttered closed and he surrendered to sleep.

* * *

"Sammy."

Sometime later, Sam opened his eyes to see Dean leaning over him. His brother looked disheveled and groggy.

"Hey," Dean said with the smile as he rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"Hey." Sam replied hoarsely. He realized someone had covered him with a blanket. He pulled it down a bit and looked at his brother. "You look like hell."

"Ditto." Dean replied, still scrubbing at his eyes. "I'm so freaking _tired._ " He shook his head. "I feel like I want to sleep for a year."

Sam started to sit up and groaned. He felt sorer then before if that was possible and his bladder told him that he needed to use the bathroom. He leaned up against the headboard and looked balefully at Dean. "Then why don't you sleep, Dean?"

The older Winchester shrugged. "I just woke up and I kind of wanted to make sure that you were okay. I mean _really_ okay."

"I'm okay." Sam replied. "Really."

Dean nodded. "Okay, cause you were in a pretty bad way."

Sam locked gazes with him. " _Really,"_ he said and even though his tone was quiet, his eyes were strong and clear.

Dean nodded. "Okay." He stood up and a half-reeled into the wall.

"Jesus, Dean." Sam said.

"Dean, honey." Ellis's feminine voice cut the silence. She rounded the corner and put her arm around the older Winchester to steady him. "You need to go back to bed."

"'M fine."

"You're so full of shit. Go to sleep."

"I don't know why I'm so tired."

Ellis glanced over to Sam and gave him a wink. He suppressed a smile. "Because when people need sleep there's this weird phenomenon where they become tired."

"Ha. Almost funny." Dean said.

"Lie down and let me help your brother to the bathroom." Dean dropped back to the couch. He swatted away her hand as she tried to cover him with a blanket.

"I'm _fine."_

She walked over to Sam who was already climbing out of bed. She moved to help him. "I'm fine," he said.

"Jesus! Is this a family motto?"

Sam's dimples flashed. "Yeah. I think so."

"Okay," she pointed to the right. "Bathroom is over there." Hovering by his elbow, she kept in tandem with his halting stride.

"Ellis," Sam said. "No offense, but even if I do fall I weigh a couple hundred pounds. What are you 120?"

"118."

Sam snorted. "I'm going to crush you if you catch me. Plus," he said, bracing himself against the bathroom door frame and smiling warmly. "I'm fine."

He winked at her.

He was ultimately okay. Dean was okay, if a bit groggy. They seemed safe with a friend. This was the Winchester definition of a victory. Everyone alive and in one piece.

He _was_ fine. He gave her a dimpled smile and closed the door.

 **Thanks for reading. I love reviews!**


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